


Looking

by Spunkybob5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spunkybob5/pseuds/Spunkybob5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Dean sees when he looks - really looks - at Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking

The thing about love? It doesn’t happen in big moments or grand gestures.

Sure, pulling someone out of hell or giving up an army for them (as random examples) are certainly very flattering, but it’s not a solid foundation for true love.

No, love creeps out of the small moments, the travel between the postcards.

Like right now. Castiel is helping Dean clean guns. Castiel rarely uses the weapons, but he understands their value. Often, they are the only thing between his friends and death, and he takes their care seriously. Under Dean’s watchful eye, Castiel’s capable hands disassemble each firearm, carefully cleaning and oiling each piece before reassembling them and moving on to the next. Dean watches more than Castiel’s hands as he works. He watches Castiel’s face – smooth with concentration, tongue occasionally peaking between his lips. He watches Castiel’s forearms – the way the muscles coil and stretch beneath the tan skin.

Truthfully, Dean has always watched Castiel. He wasn’t aware of how closely he watched, how much Castiel’s actions mattered, until Zachariah zapped him to 2014. That Castiel was…wrong. All wrong. It was still a sharp stab of regret that the first time Dean heard Castiel laugh was when he was high and depressed and…wrong.

So Dean started paying attention to what he was already watching. The surprise joy Castiel experienced from a hamburger. The way he tried desperately to balance comfort with honesty. The way his fingertips moved reverently over the objects Dean valued – Baby, John’s journal, the Samulet.

As time went on, Dean found he didn’t just see what Castiel did, he looked forward to it. The way Castiel sat in companionable silence when Dean had nothing to say. The emoticons that laced every text message. The earnestness with which Castiel asked questions about tv shows. (No one should take Judge Judy that seriously.)

Dean had simply accepted the fact that Castiel-watching was his hobby. It was soothing, like stamp collecting or bird-watching. A harmless, relaxing way to pass the time.

Until last week.

Sam had used some idiom – Dean no longer even remembers what he said – and Castiel tilted his head, brow furrowed, expression quizzical.

And Dean thought, _I love it when he does that._

_Wait. What?_

Every observation Dean had ever made about Castiel swirled through his mind, and shining through it all was a thread of something Dean had never noticed before. All that time spent watching Castiel, and each new bit of information shone a little brighter, until everything he knew about Castiel was alight with…

with…

_Shit._

_I’m in love with Cas._

Dean spent the week turning that over in his mind, looking for a way it could be false, trying to back out of it into something more familial, trying to convince himself he was wrong.

But he wasn’t wrong.

In between the world ending and all of them dying and killing monsters and dying again, he’d fallen in love with Castiel.

Castiel set down the gun he finished cleaning and reached for another when Dean’s hand laid heavily over his. Castiel looked up at Dean, tilting his head.

Dean’s heart flipped, “Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I don’t love you like a brother, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes grew wide.

“No, I mean,” Dean licked his lips. “I just…love you.”

“I don’t understand. Do you,” Castiel hesitated. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Dean’s hand tightened on Castiel’s. “I want you to stay. Stay with me. I know I can’t offer you much, just some dead guys’ bunker in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, but I love you. I want to be with you.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, “Are you…trying to pursue a romantic relationship with me?”

Dean swallowed, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Castiel looked down at their joined hands, and back up at Dean’s eyes, expression unreadable. He lowered his gaze again, then flipped his hand over and laced his fingers through Dean’s. “It is my understanding,” Castiel spoke softly. “That relationships of this nature often start with a kiss.”

Dean’s eyes widened.

“Are you going to kiss me, Dean?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

Castiel squeezed his hand, “Very much.”

Dean scooted closer to Castiel, using the hand not currently entwined with Castiel’s to lift his chin. Dean stared into those deep blue pools, allowing himself to drink as deeply as he’s always wanted, before leaning the last few inches to press his lips to Castiel’s.

The kiss was brief. Dean pulled away, watching the way Castiel’s lips parted slightly, noticing the way Castiel’s breath puffed against his skin, reveling in the look of utter bliss on Castiel’s perfect features.

It was a beautiful sight.

There’s a lot to see when you really look.


End file.
